


five times y/n looks after sam and one time he looks after her

by spideysrogers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Blood and Injury, Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sam Wilson Feels, Sam Wilson Needs a Hug, i literally just love sam so much, there aren't enough sam fics so i had to write my own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysrogers/pseuds/spideysrogers
Summary: what it says on the tin. we need more sam content and he needs a hug.
Relationships: Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Original Character(s), Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	five times y/n looks after sam and one time he looks after her

**Author's Note:**

> this work is also posted on my tumblr: dustymaximoff.tumblr.com  
> i can't believe there aren't more sam fics i love him

**I.**

They’re only a few weeks into their search for the Winter Soldier when Steve is called back to New York by Tony Stark. It’s a mission, he’d told them - a HYDRA base found in Sokovia which the Avengers are going to infiltrate. They have reason to believe they’re holding Loki’s sceptre there. Y/N still sometimes finds it hard to believe that there are gods from other planets that have been to earth but, considering they’re still rebuilding parts of New York since it was attacked in 2012, it’s not actually too unrealistic. 

“Just finish up the research here and come back, yeah?” Steve had checked with them as he was getting into one of Stark’s quinjets. “Don’t attempt any extraction.”

Sam simply nodded with a smirk and a “yes, Cap.”

It was a dead end lead, nothing they could use, but Sam had given Y/N three taps on her elbow as they were leaving the warehouse to signal that they were being followed.

“White male, thirties, blue cap,” he had told her when they got in the car, nodding at the rear view mirror, “Just got in that car.”

Y/N nodded, taking off the handbrake, “Then let's shake him off.”

They seem to lose the man in the cap as they swerve through the woods on the way to the safehouse. Steve had given them the coordinates to the house as he left. “Good for one night,” he’d said, “But come back to New York tomorrow.” Captain America’s a huge worrier, you see. 

“What is it?” Y/N asks when they pull up at the safehouse.

Sam is still looking in the rear view mirror, a sharp pinch between his brows. “I don’t think we lost him.”

She sits up straighter, “You seen him?”

“No, no.” Sam’s shaking his head quickly, eyes darting between her and the mirror. “I don’t know, ‘s just a hunch.”

“Hey,” Y/N rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, “A hunch has saved my life more than once.” She reaches into the glovebox for her gun, knocking the safety off, “Ready?”

They make it into the house with no sign of a follower, even after they check the perimeter of the house before going in - back to back, guns ready. But Sam stays by the window while Y/N takes her duffle bag to the bedroom and while she showers and while she makes the bed up for Sam because he slept on the floor last night. When she goes back to him, he’s still peeking through the curtains. 

“You should really shower, y’know,” she suggests from behind him, watching as he stays focused on the view through the window. “It’s not the best one we’ve used but I feel a lot better after mine.”

Sam hums, doesn’t move. “Maybe later.” 

Y/N walks over to him, leaning back against the wall next to him. “Sam, I think if he was going to ambush us he’d have done it by now.”

“Or, maybe, he’s just waiting for me to move so we have our guard down.”

She wouldn’t tell him but Y/N doesn’t think Sam is much of a guard right now; his eyes are drooping, forehead permanently creased as she can sense the tension and exhaustion radiating off him. She takes his hand in hers. Sam’s gaze finally leaves the window, looking down at them. “I’ll keep watch while you shower,” she promises him. “I’ll even do another lap of the perimeter if you want.”

He screws his eyes shut momentarily, “No, I should probably-”

“Sam, I will beat you.”

He smiles, finally meeting her gaze. Sam squeezes her hand twice, “Thank you.”

  
  
  


**II.**

She has never seen Sam Wilson so drunk. 

The two of them were invited to one of Tony Stark’s parties, courtesy of Steve putting in a word. He said they deserved a nice night after many long days looking for the Winter Soldier.  _ This isn’t Y/N’s idea of a nice night _ . Her plan was to sit and chat, have just a couple of drinks before calling it a night early. Sam, on the other hand, had other plans. 

It was when he knocked a ball off the snooker table and proceeded to trip over it that Y/N stood and announced she would get him home.

Sam stumbles out of the cab ahead of her, a bunch of keys fumbling between his hands. He hiccups quietly as his eyes squint at them. 

Y/N catches up with him, taking them from him, “Which one’s your door key?”

“No clue.”

She closes her eyes with a sigh, “Do you have a spare?”

“Under the cactus,” he grins.

“That’s a fern, Sam.”

Sam plonks himself onto the couch when they get inside and although Y/N  _ insists _ that he’d be better in his bed he just lies there repeating “am good” and Y/N decides it’s easier to just leave him there and get him some water. 

She crouches down beside him with the full glass, tapping his arm for him to open his eyes because she knows he won’t be asleep yet. “Come on,” she chides, “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

Sam sits up a bit, taking the glass from her with both hands, “You’re good to me.”

“I am so you better not be about to throw up down my nice trousers.”

“No, am-” he chokes down a burp. “Am good.”

“Okay, Falcon,” Y/N takes the glass from him after he’s had a few sips, leaning down to put it on the floor so it’s there when he wants it. 

When she lifts back up, Sam’s lips are sloppily pressed to her cheek. She freezes. Sam lies back down, mumbling, “Really are good to me.”

Y/N simply sits still, blinks a few times, before shaking it off and looking for a blanket to cover him up with. 

  
  
  


**III.**

“ _ Shit _ , Y/N-”

“Sorry!”

Sam Wilson’s a lot heavier than he looks. Y/N’s got her arms around his waist, one of his around her shoulder, as she tries her best to help him into his house. The gash on his waist is bleeding through his shirt and, if she wasn’t so worried about him, Y/N would be telling him how incredibly  _ stupid _ he is. But, for now, Sam’s idiocy isn’t her main concern.

She gets them into his house with the spare key under the plant pot because, even though she had a key cut the other week,  _ God  _ knows where it is now. She manages to maneuver him to sit on the couch but Sam’s raises his brows.

“You’ll get blood on my couch.”

Y/N shifts one of her boxes out of the way with her foot because they’re halfway through moving her in to live with him but there’s only so much you can do when you’re also running avengers missions. “I’ll get some peroxide on it so long as you don’t die on me.”

He chuckles with a slight wince, “‘m not gonna die on you, baby.”

“Too right, not on my watch.” 

Y/N’s hands are  _ covered _ in blood, she’s rather conscious about it; as much as Sam was joking, she really doesn’t want to get it on the couch. She moves one from his wound to grab one of his hands, replacing hers. She sits back on her knees, redded hands held out in front of her while she looks around herself before wiping them on her jeans.  _ They’re for the trash later. _

Shifting with a grimace, Sam tries to look over the arm of the couch, “Need towels-”

“Yep, I got it.” Y/N rises, hand taking his cheek and giving it a quick stroke with her thumb. She presses a quick kiss to his lips, “Just sit tight.”

She practically runs to the bathroom, actually trips over her dirty socks on the floor from this morning. Falling to her knees between Sam’s legs again with a thump, she’s quick to press a towel to his bleeding waist. Sam sucks a sharp breath through his teeth at the added pressure, “Does it need stitches?”

“Might just need wrapping and long rest, sweetheart. Just need to stop the bleeding, it’s still going.” Sam’s head drops with a sigh, chin meeting his chest. “Hey,” she half-whispers, one hand gently landing on the top of his head and rubbing it. He lifts up slowly, eyes heavy. “I got you, m’kay? Just sit for a minute.”

Sam smiles, “I’m taking you out when I’m better. Date night.”

“Too right.”

  
  
  


**IV.**

Sam’s mumbling in his sleep again. It happens every so often - his eyes screw shut in his sleep and his limbs twitch as he remembers the horrors of past missions or ponders the ‘what ifs’ of missions to come. The life they lead is difficult - they both have their fair share of nightmares. This time, it’s Sam’s. 

Y/N’s quick to sit up, blinking rapidly to unblur her eyes as she rests a hand on his chest. She murmurs his name once, thumb stroking over his shirt. “Sweetheart, wake up.”  _ Nothing _ . 

Sam twists, neck stretching as his head pushes sideways against the pillow and his hand reaches out for something, anything. Y/N grabs hold of it.

That wakes him up - eyes snapping open as he lurches forward. “Hey, hey,” Y/N rushes, free hand catching him around the waist as the other stays firmly holding his. Sam’s looking at her like he doesn’t quite recognise her. “It’s okay,” she promises, nodding, “It’s okay, ‘s just me.”

Sam stills, his breath still coming out in puffs through chapped lips. 

Y/N smiles, squeezing his hand, “Yeah? You’re okay.”

Sam nods, running a hand over his face, “Sorry.”

“No, stop.” Y/N shifts closer to him, nose nudging the side of his cheek, “You never have to apologise, you know that.”

She pulls him back slightly, gets him to sit back against the pillows while she lies next to him, leaning over his chest. She looks up at him, eyes closed and breaths still whistling through his nose. She lifts her hand and thumbs gently at the crease between his brows. 

“Just breathe, baby,” she reminds him. “Just take a minute.”

Following her instructions, Sam takes some deep breaths. His hand still holds hers tightly and Y/N strokes the side of his pointer finger with her thumb. “Riley,” he offers as an explanation after a few minutes.

Y/N cups his cheek, shaking her head, “You don’t have to talk about it.” She strokes the top of his cheekbone with her thumb, “I got you, ‘kay? You’re alright.”

Sam leans into her hand, lips quirking up slightly, “I love you.”

Y/N leans down to kiss his chest.

  
  
  


**V.**

Sam’s an early riser, always has been; he and Y/N tend to be up first thing for a run most mornings and, even on the days she wants a rest, he’s still waking her up on his way out the door with a smirk at her unimpressed face and a “you know what you signed up for moving in here, baby”. Y/N thinks it’s a small price she’s willing to pay if she gets to wake up with him every morning. 

They’d agreed they weren’t running this morning though - thought they could do with a day after recent events - so Y/N wasn’t surprised when Sam was still asleep as she woke. She left him in bed with a kiss to his jaw as she went to brew some coffee before he got up. Now, though, she’s already finished her cup and there’s no sign of him and she’s honestly starting to worry. Even on lazy days, Sam’s up and sat in the kitchen by nine. 

Y/N opens the bedroom door again slowly. Sam is lying facing her on his side, eyes open but unfocused. He’s been off for a few days; they’ve only been back just under a week. The final battle and Stark’s funeral kept their brains occupied but now it’s catching up to them that, all of a sudden, they are five years behind the rest of the world. Y/N’s been on a few walks recently, trying to re-familiarise herself with her surroundings. Her favourite bagel shop is gone and there’s a new apartment block in its place. She doesn’t like it. 

Sam’s had to readjust himself too but she knows that Steve’s proposal is the thing weighing him down the most. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed by his stomach, Y/N rests a gentle hand on the side of Sam’s head. “Y’should probably shower, baby,” she whispers to him, thumb stroking his forehead, “It’s stuffy in here.”

Sam doesn’t answer. He shifts a hand from under the covers to hold onto Y/N’s knee. 

Y/N leans down to him with a sigh, nose resting against his shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“‘m not cut out for this, Y/N,” he croaks out, hand tightening on her leg. “I follow Steve, I always follow Steve. Now it’s up to me to-”

“Okay, okay,” she hushes him. She kisses his cheek softly, lingering to rub her nose against the stubble on the side of his face. “Let’s get you showered and fed, we’ll take it from there.” Sam twists his head to look up at her, eyes heavy. Y/N gives him the best assuring smile she can muster, “Come on, I got you.”

She sits on the closed toilet seat while Sam showers so he doesn’t have to be alone, heart dropping when he reaches his hand out through the curtain after a few minutes to make sure in their bedroom - lifts his shirt over his head for him and kisses his collarbone as she pulls it down. She plans to make him something to eat - some toast, maybe - but Sam just sits down on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around his middle. 

Y/N sits down next to him, tucking one leg under herself and the other dangling off the bed. She cups the back of his head with her hand, nose coming to rest against his cheek and Sam leans into her. They sit for a moment, the silence weighing down on both of their shoulders as Y/N tries her best to hold it up for the both of them. 

“I’m not Steve,” Sam mutters quietly after a while. Y/N her head from his shoulder and, when he turns to look at her, he gives her a sad tight-lipped smile. “I can’t be Steve, I don’t know how to be.” Y/N can’t even speak, just stares at his tired face. “He-” he shakes his head, “He’s so  _ good _ , y’know? He’s got this knack for leadership and looking after people and big motivational speeches that- that I just don’t have. I can’t live up to that.”

“Sweetheart,” she cups his face with both of her hands, “No one is asking you to be Steve. The man’s  _ literally _ a super soldier, no one expecting you to be that.”

Sam lets out a small chuckle. Y/N sees his eyes drift to the red, white and blue shield that is propped up against the wall in the corner. She drops her hands from his face to take each of his in hers. 

“Steve gave you that because he trusts you,” she tells him. “He’s not asking you to be the next him, he’s not asking you to start practicing your motivational speeches.” That gets a smile out of him. “He’s passed it onto you because he knows you’re a good man, Sam. You’re a good man and you’re a hero, and he knows you can fight for what is right.” She stops, shrugs, “That and  _ someone _ needs to look after Barnes.” 

She watches him smile. He lets go of her hands, taking hold of her face gently and kissing her softly. Y/N’s hands land on his chest, lips moulding around his with a quiet sigh. It’s Sam who pulls back with a grateful smile, “Thank you.”

She nods, caressing the bottom of his chin with her thumb, “I’m always here to look after you.” She kisses his cheek quickly, “Now, let’s get some food in you.”

  
  
  


**\+ I**

White. White ceilings. Y/N feels her chest tighten as soon as her eyes snap open. _ What’s happened? _

Her whole body feels heavy, stuck lying down, and her breath is coming out in fast painful little gasps as she tries to look around. There’s a window and a beeping machine and there’s  _ something up her nose _ and her hand is patting around to try and find something or someone to help.

“Hey,  _ hey _ , Y/N.” It’s Sam, that’s Sam. She turns her head in the other direction, coming face to face with her love. He smiles reassuringly, nods, “It’s okay, baby, you’re alright.”

Y/N’s eyes are still wide though, chest still heaving because things are  _ not _ alright; how can things be alright if she’s in the hospital? And the pain in her abdomen is more apparent and she remembers the mission, the fight, the  _ shot _ . 

Sam takes one of her hands in his, the other coming up to rest on her head and push some of her hair back. “It’s alright now, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

Y/N relaxes slightly, letting herself lean into the pillows. “S’mmy,” she murmurs.

“I’m here, you’re alright. You’re gonna be alright.”

“You’re here.”

“I am,” he smiles, thumb now stroking her forehead, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N’s brow furrows, “You been here the whole time?”

“Of course I have. I’m always here to look after you?”

Y/N smiles slightly, “Looking after me?”

Sam pulls her hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it softly before holding it against his cheek. “We look after each other, don’t we? It’s what we do.”

Y/N can only smile up at him through tired eyes. “Love you,” she mumbles. “Love you so much.”

“I love you more.” He leans closer to her, wrapping his arms around her torso the best he can without moving her, “You can go back to sleep, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
